by Hunt, Jack
“Then you wouldn’t get paid, would you?”
Colby looked at her then back at Daisy who had glanced over her shoulder.
Alicia caught it. Since being captured she’d been looking for her way out and she was beginning to think she’d found it. She planned to capitalize on it. “I imagine you’ll get less now that both of you are bringing me in,” Alicia said to Colby.
“That’s not how this works.”
“Isn’t it? Do you think you’re the only bounty hunter that has tried to take me in?”
“Oh please. Don’t give me that. I’m the only one that found you.”
“Is that what you think?”
“I don’t think. I know. In this line of work people talk. A big capture like you. I would have heard about it.”
“I guess you must be going deaf in your old age,” she said. He gripped her tighter and pushed her forward. She could see he was chewing it over. Of course, he had been the first to find her but she wanted to sow some doubt, doubt that he could keep hold of her, doubt that he would get paid the full amount, anything to make him question whether or not he should continue.
As they passed different stores with steel shutters covering doorways and windows, Alicia noticed wary residents in apartments above looking out the windows at the crowd below. The atmosphere had changed.
They sidestepped those ahead, trying to keep up with Daisy who was on a mission.
Alicia’s thoughts drifted to the Russians, the run-in with them, and all the memories. The last few weeks in Seattle before she was arrested. The threats by Bratva and that night. If they were brazen enough to try and take her out in a public place like an airport they weren’t going to stop until she was dead.
She thought back to the day she got bonded out, getting on that Greyhound and heading south, thinking Los Angeles would provide the anonymity she needed. No one would look for her there. She figured they would give it a few weeks of searching, contacting friends, family, and co-workers, and once they realized she was no longer in the city they would give up. Nope. She was a liability.
But wouldn’t that change now? With the country on the brink of collapse? There was no benefit to killing her. No reason for them to pursue her unless they believed it wouldn’t stay this way.
She glanced at Colby.
It was another reason why she hadn’t bolted.
Colby was stubborn and Daisy was psychotic but it was because of them that she was still alive. If he had been able to find her, it would have only been a matter of time before Bratva was on her doorstep. Maybe this was a good thing.
She needed to know more about him. His background, his life, his regrets. Everyone had them. Despite his drive to get paid, she could tell he was different. He didn’t have to help her back at the airport. He could have handed her over and walked out. Why was he still dead set on keeping her close to him now?
“Do you live in the city?” she asked.
“On the outskirts. Simi Valley.”
“You always been here?”
He cut her a glance. A look of uncertainty as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to have a conversation. “No.”
“What about family?”
He turned his head. He’d registered the question but instead of answering, he called out to Daisy. “Daisy. Your apartment is that way. Where the hell are you taking us?”
“I got a new place,” she said.
Up ahead the flow of people stopped. Many turned, heading back past them as if encountering some barrier or threat. There were so many people out and being short she couldn’t see what was happening. Someone was shouting. A commotion. A fight? Suddenly several rounds cut through the hum of the city and many got low, screaming, some darting at a crouch for the cover of vehicles while others turned tail and ran.
Colby pulled her off the curb, across the road, and toward a corner store.
As they reached the market and the intersection of Irolo Street and Pico, more gunfire erupted. This time people fled in every direction. The owner of the market was bringing down the shutters when Colby dragged her into the doorway.
“Daisy!” She turned and hurried back as several bystanders were cut down in a hail of bullets. The owner looked to be from the Middle East.
“Hey, you can’t stay here.”
“I’m an ex-cop.”
“Then you really can’t stay here.”
Colby glanced over his shoulder. “Please, just a few minutes until…”
More rounds erupted and the owner darted in and would have shut the door in their faces if it wasn’t for Colby. He shouldered it open and held it wide so Daisy could enter. As soon as they were in, he pulled down the shutter then slammed the door before turning to face the irate owner who was now pointing a revolver at them.
EIGHT
COLBY
He stared down the barrel, his heart drumming hard. The Iranian-looking fella had to be in his late fifties. A striped shirt, brown pants, sandals, and greasy looking hair. A younger woman with dark skin and long hair appeared from out back, talking in a foreign language. The man shrugged her off, disturbed by them barging in.
“Get out. You must get out! You cannot stay in here.” His English was broken.
“Calm down, old man,” Daisy said, putting a hand out. “We’ll be out of your hair soon.”
“No. Go now!”
“Please. Father. Put the gun down,” his daughter said.
She was in her early twenties and seemed to have a bit more sense. She placed a hand on his arm to lower the weapon but he raised it again. They argued back and forth for a minute or two, but at no time would he take his eyes off them and Colby wasn’t going to reach for his gun. As a cop, he’d seen situations like this play out many times. It could go south really quick. Outside, the noise of the rioting intensified. Under any other circumstances, the streets would have been calm for at least forty-eight to seventy-two hours in an event like this. But as thousands were already outside amped up when the lights went out, some must have thought that it was city officials trying to stem the protests.
Of course, that would have changed when the cars stopped, and planes fell out of the sky. He could only imagine what kind of horrors the country was witnessing. At any given time there were hundreds of planes over cities. While they probably wouldn’t have dropped out of the air in a tailspin, and many would have managed to land safely at airports, airfields, or elsewhere, there would have been many unable.
That would only add to the destruction, loss of life, and strain on emergency services. Law enforcement was often overworked but there would have been no way they could have handled a situation like this.
Protesters, rioters, and then an EMP. It was the worst situation possible.
Outside, someone pounded hard with what sounded like a baseball bat on the shutters, causing all of them to flinch and look back.
“It’s getting wild out there,” Daisy said.
Colby tried to talk the man down. “Look, we mean you no harm.”
“No? Then why do you have a woman in handcuffs?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Alicia said.
“Because that’s how we get our freak on, old man,” Daisy said, throwing fuel on the flames.
Colby glared. “Daisy.”
She chuckled. She wasn’t helping. Colby raised a hand and indicated that he was going to pull out his badge. It was a risky move especially since the guy looked as if he was a hair’s breadth away from squeezing the trigger.
Upon showing him, Colby said, “Bail bonds. She’s a fugitive.”
“Then even more reason for you to leave. Go. Go. Get out!” he said with a thick accent, moving forward, close enough that Colby could snatch the gun out of his hand. The thought passed through his mind but before he could act on it, the daughter got between them.
“Enough, Father! Put the gun down.”
“Sahar, get out the way.”
“Not until you stop acting like a fool.”
There
were a few tense moments, especially since Daisy kept chuckling, finding the whole moment amusing. It was another one of the reasons why she was so unpopular. Her timing was awful. Reluctantly the older man lowered his weapon but he refused to put it away.
“Thank you,” Colby said. “We won’t stay long.”
“Probably best you don’t,” Sahar said. “I’m sorry but he’s had a lot of break-ins here over the past year. He doesn’t trust anyone.”
“Join the club,” Alicia added, eyeing Colby.
“Is there a way out the back?” Colby asked.
“No,” the man replied, following him as Colby looked around.
The store wasn’t the best place to stay especially since it offered all kinds of food. While some looters would target what they considered valuable stores, the smart ones would try to take advantage of a place like this. It was close. Convenient. And no help would come.
After getting her father to calm down, she came over and handed each of them a bottle of water.
“Thank you, that’s very kind,” he said.
She looked at the doorway. “Do you know what’s going on outside?”
“It’s an EMP, darling,” Daisy chimed in, leaning against the wall, lighting a cigarette.
“You can’t smoke in here!” Sahar’s father barked.
Daisy ignored him and continued to puff away.
“Trust me, a cigarette is the least of your problems,” Colby said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t stay here long either. The streets are crazy right now. No cars or phones are working. Planes have come down, looters are taking advantage of the blackout. And with all those protesters out there. This will be one of the first places that gets hit.”
Sahar dipped her head. “We can’t leave.”
“You might have to leave,” Alicia said.
“No, I mean we can’t. My mother is not well.”
“The pandemic?” Colby asked.
“No. She has cancer. She’s in the end stage of life. We had her hooked to a machine here at home until the power went out. We can’t transport her and he won’t leave her.”
Colby nodded, remembering what Daisy had said about the ill and injured. They would be the first to go. His thoughts turned to his own mother. It had been years since they’d seen each other or spoken. The events leading up to him leaving lingered in his mind, a reminder not to return, but now with all that had happened…
It was hard to imagine how many were in the same position as this family. Los Angeles County had a population of over ten million people. What would they do with the dead? Where would they put them? And with no trucks to come and take away garbage, the streets would soon begin to smell of rotten food. Disease would follow and with the pandemic already in full swing, this was probably the last straw.
“Do you know who did this?” Sahar asked.
“Probably one of your kind,” Daisy said.
“How dare you! I’m American.”
“Yeah, and I’m Australian.” Daisy laughed, leaning up against the wall.
“Daisy, c’mon,” Colby chided.
For a woman that was used to racist comments, it struck him as odd.
Outside, another round of gunfire put all of them on edge. While it was true that not everyone would take advantage of others at a time like this, Los Angeles like many cities was teeming with gangs, criminals, and those on the line of poverty. They operated when there was law and order, how much more would they do so now? Darkness provided cover. A lack of transportation meant robbing someone and getting away with it would be easy. For the criminal underbelly, this was like waking up on Christmas day.
Colby shrugged. “Pick a country, take your pick.”
“Russia,” Alicia said confidently without looking at them. She lifted her eyes and they were staring back. She’d said it with such conviction that it would cause anyone to question why she was so certain. She backtracked. “I guess. I mean, they have the means. Right?”
“So do other countries,” Daisy said. “Or maybe you know something we don’t. Do you?”
Alicia shook her head. “How’s your arm?” she asked, quickly changing the topic. Colby glanced at his arm and then registered the pain. He’d almost forgotten. The bullet had merely grazed him. It hurt like hell at first and he’d bled a good amount but after nearly dying out there on the roads from the angry mob, he’d pushed the pain from his mind. Now it just throbbed, ached. “Sahar, do you have any medical ointment, bandages?” Alicia asked.
“Yes.” She went to collect them while Alicia came over and told him to take off his jacket. He raised an eyebrow and offered back a skeptical expression, trying to figure out what her angle was. There was always an angle with fugitives. They’d go to any lengths to escape and buttering him up was an old tactic. Then again, he’d kept her from harm’s way so maybe it was just her way of returning the favor.
“It might be easier without the cuffs.”
Daisy laughed. “Nice try.”
“Hey, I’m just trying to help.”
“Yeah, I bet you were,” Daisy added. “If you want to help, how about you tell us why those Russians came after you?”
“What does it matter to you?”
“Because I want to know what is so damn important about you that my friend had to die.”
There was a moment of silence between them.
Sahar returned and went to hand Alicia the medical gear when Daisy took it out of her hands and set about doing it herself. It was almost like she was trying to get under Alicia’s skin.
When they removed Colby’s jacket, his entire sleeve was soaked in blood. Daisy removed the scarlet handkerchief and took a bottle of water and spilled it all over the wound, then used a clean cloth to wash it. “You were lucky. You always were.”
He snorted as she went about bandaging it while Alicia and Sahar looked on.
Sahar’s father still hadn’t let go of his gun. He stood in the doorway that separated the store from the storage area, tapping it nervously against his leg.
“How long have you been here?” Colby asked. “In America.”
“I was born here,” Sahar said. “My parents immigrated thirty years ago. They came with nothing and purchased this place.”
“There, that should do it.” Daisy tapped him on the arm and he groaned. “You have any booze?” Daisy asked.
Colby added. “I think I was meant to have that before you worked on my arm.”
“It’s not for you. It’s for me,” she said, tossing the bandage on a counter.
“We might have something out back,” Sahar said, leading Daisy out.
“Oh, and Alicia, you might want to watch Colby, he has an eye for needy women.”
Colby tossed her the bird as he slipped back into his jacket.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
“So after you drop me at the Bail Bonds, will you go home or leave the city?” Alicia asked.
“Home first. Then…” He was about to say Humboldt but he stopped short. If he’d traveled back it would have been by plane. Humboldt was a good six hundred miles away — at least ten hours by car. On foot, he was looking at weeks.
“You know, I get it. You handing me over and all. You’re just doing your job. But with everything that’s happened. Do you really think they’ll throw me in jail?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do. Look, I know Daisy is all hyped about this EMP and all, and it looks pretty dire out there but don’t underestimate this country’s resilience. It has a way of turning things around and right now we don’t know the full extent of this. It might have only affected California. If that’s the case other states and countries will come to our aid but if not…”
“I’d like to believe that but I get the feeling you don’t.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, well it doesn’t matter what I think,” he said. He began looking around the store for anything that might be of use. The owners had used flashlights and candles to illuminate the inside. Small flames flickered, casting sha
dows on the wall. Colby scanned the array of products. What he loved about these markets is they crammed anything and everything onto their shelves. It was like a tiny Walmart, offering food and alcohol, home and living goods through to trinkets and knickknacks. It looked odd but it worked. People bought them. They were smart that way. It wasn’t as much a matter of knowing what to sell people as it was giving them a wide choice. They knew people wanted convenience over traveling to the local big box stores. It cost a few dollars more for a pack of batteries but folks like him were a sucker for snagging them up to avoid getting stuck in traffic.
As he roamed the shelves, he noted an area where there were T-shirts and backpacks. He took a look at one then set it down. Water was key, but food would eventually become a major issue. In Humboldt and rural areas they could turn to fishing and hunting but here, well it was a different story. City folk were used to the luxury of stores like this. They didn’t want to know how it landed on their plate, only that it was there, and available, and at a price they could afford.
“Don’t touch anything,” Sahar’s father said as Colby picked up a box of matches.
He set it back down again. “We might be your last customers. I’ve got money.”
“We’re not open for business.”
Colby chuckled. “That would be a first.”
He admired their work ethic. The long hours they put in. It was one thing no one could deny them. They were here from sunrise to sunset, seven days a week. Back when he was a cop and was on a long shift, he drew strength from the hard-working community around him. They weren’t afraid of long hours. He wandered over to the older man. He straightened up, bringing up the gun. “C’mon, I think if we wanted to hurt you we would have done it by now. Besides, what’s your deal with cops?”
“Never helped me. I called them multiple times. They always say the same thing. Nothing they can do. Get a better security system.”
“Well, it’s true. There’s not much they can do.”
Colby took out a wad of cash and thumbed off a few hundred-dollar bills. “Here, take this. It’s more than you would get if you were open.” He emphasized the word open and smiled at him.